The Leapling
by Hyaroo
Summary: February 29, 1980. Leap Day. At the Burrow, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George, and (sigh) Great Auntie Muriel are waiting for the newest Weasley brother to be born. But something unexpected is about to happen. One-shot, prelude to the "Weasley Girl" trilogy.


**I'm posting this for February the 29** **th** **, also known as Leap Day, a day that only comes around once every four years and has many interesting traditions and superstitions attached to it. The most famous one is probably how, in old times, Leap Day was the only time when it was acceptable for women to propose to men, rather than the other way around.**

 **But for the** _ **Weasley Girl**_ **stories, Leap Day is important for another reason...**

 **(In case you're wondering about the age of the Weasley children in this story: Bill is nine years old, Charlie is seven, Percy is three-and-a-half and Fred and George are not quite two.)**

* * *

 **THE LEAPLING**

 **A story in the _Weasley Girl_ universe  
** **Based on the** _ **Harry Potter**_ **books by J. K. Rowling**

* * *

 **FEBRUARY 29, 1980**

* * *

"...and Babbitty hopped out of the grounds and far away. And ever after, a golden statue of the washerwoman stood upon the tree stump, and no witch or wizard was ever persecuted in the kingdom again. The end."

"Read it again!"

"That's the _third_ time I've read you that story, Perce."

From his place on the couch, where he had spent the last half-hour playing with his pet Puffskein Erec, Charlie watched his brothers.

He was really impressed with Bill — his older brother had decided to read _Beedle the Bard_ for the little ones in order to stop a war from breaking out between them and Auntie Muriel, and he heroically hadn't lost temper even with Auntie Muriel grumbling about having to babysit, Fred and George refusing to sit still, and Percy insisting on hearing about Babbitty Rabbitty and more Babbitty Rabbitty and _nothing but bloody Babbitty Rabbitty._

It would have driven _Charlie_ mad, but _Bill_ just kept going as if it didn't worry him at all.

"Again!" Percy repeated, nudging Bill.

"Again, again!" cried Fred and George, running around Bill on their short little legs. Charlie was certain they hadn't even heard half the story with all their running around, but of course since Percy was demanding to hear it again, they were going to do the same. (Percy was their big hero and they tried to do everything he did.)

Auntie Muriel cackled. "Under the thumb of your younger brothers, eh, William? Just wait until the new one gets here! I wouldn't be surprised if he turns out to be a bigger handful than the rest of you put together! That seems to be the Weasley way; the younger they are, the bigger terrors they are!"

Happy that none of them was paying _him_ any attention at the moment, Charlie went back to playing with Erec. He held the happily trilling Puffskein up in one hand and let him jump from one hand to the other.

As Erec proudly showed off his acrobatic skills, Charlie's thoughts briefly went up to the fourth floor, where, just now, his youngest brother was in the middle of being born.

Mum had been in labour for hours now. The midwife (not old Mrs. Spleen, who had delivered Charlie and his brothers, but a new one that Charlie didn't know the name of and who'd had to answer a lot of questions to prove she wasn't a Death Eater) had allowed Dad to be there, but the children all had to stay in the living room and be watched by Great-Auntie Muriel.

Bill had taken it calmly. He'd pointed out that childbirth was supposed to be painful; and why should _Mum_ be the only one to suffer?

Still, Charlie wished the new baby would hurry up and be _born_ already.

Not that he was all _that_ thrilled about the birth of a new Weasley. After all, he'd gone through this exact thing twice already; he could clearly remember the birth of Percy, and then the birth of Fred and George, and now that Weasley-Brother-Number-Six was about to make his entrance, the novelty had well and truly worn off.

Charlie knew exactly how it was going to go down: Dad would come down the stairs, looking all happy and excited, and announce that they had a new baby brother. Then, they would all be allowed upstairs to meet the baby for the first time, and then Mum and Dad would finally reveal what his name was going to be. It was sort of tradition for Mum and Dad to decide on each new kid's name in secret, and then not reveal it to anyone until after the baby was born. Then, and only then, the family would get to know what they were supposed to call their new brother. And (so went the tradition) the name would briefly be a family secret until the christening a week or so later, when the new Weasley's name was officially announced to the world.

The christening would of course be filled with relatives all queuing up to meet yet another Weasley son, making the same old tired congratulations while they talked in hushed voices about You-Know-Who. And there would be a boring party afterwards where Charlie wouldn't be allowed to go outside because he had to be polite for the guests, as if any of them were there for _him_.

The next few months would then be filled with lots of crying, and a mountain of stinky nappies, and no sleep at night, and one more kid for Mum and Dad to be busy with whenever Charlie wanted something.

Of course, after a while the family would get used to the baby, and who knew — when he got old enough to do more than just lie around and fart, he might even prove to be an all right little brother.

Yeah, Charlie thought, it wasn't that he was _against_ the idea of another brother. There just didn't seem to be much point in getting all _excited_ about it, was all. Not the same way he might get excited about the birth of a litter of kittens, or a new pet, or the discovery that Plimpies were breeding in the pond.

(Charlie knew that Mum and Dad were occasionally worried that he got along better with animals than he did with people. He _tried_ to like people more, he really did; it was just that animals were so much more fun!)

"You know..." Bill's voice sounded, tearing Charlie out of his line of thought. "I just thought of something. Today's February the twenty-ninth."

"If I were you, William," said Auntie Muriel, "I would _not_ consider being able to tell which date it is a point of pride. You're nine years old, boy! Knowing these things should be a matter of course at your age!"

"No, I just meant," said Bill, "unless our brother takes twelve more hours to be born, he'll be a leapling!"

"Leapling?" said Percy, who always got curious when he heard a word he didn't know from before.

"You now, born on Leap Day. Leapling."

"What's Leap Day?" Seemed like Percy was learning a number of new words and phrases today.

"Well, _today's_ Leap Day," said Bill. "February the twenty-ninth. Usually, February only has twenty-eight days. But every four years, it's a leap year, and then it gets an extra day and has twenty-nine."

"Oh." (Lucky for Bill that Percy had mastered the art of counting by now.) "Why?"

"Because..." Bill paused. "Actually, I have no idea why. Because the Muggles say so?"

"Probably somebody messed around with a Time-Turner," Auntie Muriel grumbled.

"Anyway, Perce," said Bill before Percy could ask what a Time-Turner was, " _you_ were born on a leap year."

"I was?!"

"Yeah, four years ago," said Bill, "Except you were born in August, so you're not a leapling. You get to have a birthday every year."

"But the new one'll only have a birthday every four years!" Charlie couldn't believe he hadn't thought of that. _Poor boy!_ "He won't get any birthday presents!"

"Don't be silly, Charles!" Auntie Muriel scoffed, before adding with a nasty smile: "Would be a bit of a relief for Arthur and Molly if they only had to throw him a party every four years, mind," she said. "That would save them some money, eh? Honestly, I have no idea what they're even thinking, having child number six!"

Later on, Bill would claim that the look he'd sent Charlie then was supposed to be a warning not to get Muriel started. They knew she never passed up a chance to criticise or speak ill of anyone, be they her closest relatives or total strangers, and trying to argue with her just added more fuel to the fire.

Unfortunately, at the time Charlie hadn't caught the meaning of the look. "Mum always said that more children meant more love," he said.

"Yes, she _would_ say that, wouldn't she," Muriel scoffed. _"Dreadfully_ sentimental. She's been that way ever since she was little. As if _love_ is going to change the fact that Arthur is still stuck in a dead-end job and your entire family's going to end up starving just because those two can't ever accept that they're not going to get a girl, no matter how many times they try!"

"But—" Charlie began.

"And then they'll expect _me_ to help them out with a bit of gold so they can make ends meet. Kind old Auntie Muriel!"

"Mum and Dad have never asked —"

"I already spend far too much of my valuable time in this house, looking after _you_ lot. Your father should be the one here with you, he could let that midwife do her job and stay away from the birth like a decent man. Back in _my_ day, the husband wasn't let anywhere near the mother before the child was good and born. But of course Arthur has to be all _modern_ about it." (She pronounced the word 'modern' as if it was a curse word.) "Soon as he hears his wife is going into labour, he storms home from work — not to keep an eye on you children while your mother is busy, mind you! No, _he_ has to be there and hold her hand or whatever he thinks he's doing, leaving _me_ to deal with you! And at _my_ age too!"

Charlie felt his anger rise. If there was one thing he hated, it was when people talked ill of Dad. "You don't have to stay," he said. "You can just leave! We won't miss you!"

Bill hid his face in his hands.

"Hah!" Muriel barked. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Charles?! Get rid of me so that you can fill the living room with stray cats and frogs from the pond, while the twins run around and smash everything in sight! And when your father comes down, all proud about his new brat, the entire ground floor is in ruins! Not that it doesn't half look like a ruin already," she added as a new thought struck her. "When I came in here I thought You-Know-Who had attacked the place!"

"You-Know-Who!" Percy squeaked. He was still too young to know just who "You-Know-Who" was, but like all of them he had learned that the grown-ups were afraid of that name.

"That's right," said Auntie Muriel. _"He's_ still out there, and your parents irresponsibly keep having children! Trying for a girl, I'm telling you —" She looked at Percy, Fred and George, and she got that peculiar smile she always got when she was about to say something especially nasty. "You three had better be grateful Charles wasn't born a girl! The only reason you even exist is because your mother wanted a daughter!"

Percy stiffened. Fred and George, not quite having caught the meaning of Muriel's words but sensing that their brothers were upset, were clearly bracing themselves for a twin tantrum.

"A long time ago, in a far-off land, there lived a foolish king who decided that he alone should have the power of magic!" Bill said in a loud voice, starting on the story of Babbitty Rabbitty for the fourth time in a clear, desperate attempt to calm everyone down.

 _"Hush!"_ Muriel suddenly barked, her expression changing. She turned her head towards the staircase. "Your father's coming down. Prepare yourselves."

Charlie blinked. He hadn't heard anything from the fourth floor that indicated that the birth was over, probably because of how noisy the living room had been — but Auntie Muriel, even though she would soon turn ninety, had exceptionally sharp hearing.

The quarrel was forgotten, as were any thoughts of You-Know-Who and girls. Everyone, from Bill to the twins, with Erec riding on Charlie's shoulder and Muriel following them, gathered at the bottom of the stairs as the hurried, excited footsteps got louder.

"Kids!" came Dad's voice, immediately followed by Dad himself. His face was red with excitement as he rushed down the final steps, almost stumbling but managing to catch himself in the nick of time.

"You look awful, Arthur," said Auntie Muriel, which was her way of saying hello. "I hope you weren't the first thing your new son saw. You'd frighten fifty years off him."

"What? Oh, Muriel!" Dad looked at her as if only now realising that she would be there too. "Thank you for watching the boys!" Without even waiting for her to reply, her turned to said boys, who were now crowding around him. "Bill," he said. "Charlie, Percy, Fred, George — _you have a sister!"_

 _"What?!"_ For the first and only time, Charlie and Auntie Muriel said the exact same thing at the exact same time.

"It's a girl!" Dad beamed. "A strong, healthy girl! First Weasley girl born in seven generations!"

"...Are you _quite_ certain?" said Muriel in total disbelief. "Did you get a good look? I did think that midwife didn't quite look like someone who knew what she was doing, maybe she can't tell the difference —"

But Dad wasn't paying attention. He was trying to hug all his sons at the same time, through not quite successfully. "Congratulations, boys! You're all big brothers now!"

Charlie accepted the hug, making certain Erec didn't fall off his shoulder and feeling almost as shocked as Muriel seemed. A _sister._ A _girl_. Despite Muriel constantly saying that Mum and Dad were trying for a girl, he'd never seriously thought that they would actually have one.

What did girls _do_ , anyway? He didn't really know any — well, apart from Mum and various aunts and great-aunts, but they didn't count. He had a vague idea (based on horror stories from a few distant cousins, and the occasional glimpse he got of Muggle children down in the village), that girls played with dolls a lot and had pretend tea parties and were afraid of insects. And they were going to have one of _those_ at the Burrow?

And to top it off, lucky Bill would be off to Hogwarts in less than two years, right around the time when this girl was old enough to start demanding that her brothers play tea party with her. Which would mean that _Charlie_ would be the oldest and get stuck looking after her.

"You have to come up and meet her!" said Dad excitedly. "Mum's waiting for you all! Come on, boys!"

With that, he picked up both Fred and George and began carrying them upstairs. Percy followed, looking like he was heading to see the world's biggest miracle, and Bill put a hand on Charlie's shoulder (the one not currently occupied by Erec).

"Come on," he said with a grin. "Let's see if this one's any quieter than the twins were."

Charlie of course knew the stairs of the Burrow; he'd climbed up and down them almost since before he could walk — but somehow, the climb up to the fourth floor seemed almost like he was going up to a place he didn't know. Maybe it was the knowledge that there was a _girl_ up there that had him feel weird. Or maybe it was just the fact that Auntie Muriel, who was right behind him, hadn't grumbled even _once_ about how a woman of her age shouldn't have to climb stairs.

He was glad he still had Erec on his shoulder, and that nobody seemed to think to ask him to leave the Puffskein downstairs. The low, happy humming sound in his ear made him feel a little better.

On the fourth floor, Dad had to put Fred and George down and catch his breath. "I think that's the last time I carry you two up the stairs," he panted. "You're getting much too big."

Fred and George laughed.

The door to Mum and Dad's bedroom opened, and the midwife Charlie didn't remember the name of stepped out, looking much too well-groomed and chipper for someone who had just helped a baby out into the world.

She was smiling at them, and spoke in a soft voice. "Hello, boys. Excited to see your new sister, are you? You can go right in, your mother's eager to see you — but don't make too much noise, and don't crowd her. New babies need peace and quiet."

Bill smiled back at her, his most winning smile. "Don't worry," he said. "We know how to behave around newborn babies. This isn't the first time we've seen one, you know."

"Oh." It seemed to fully sink in on the midwife just how many of them there were, and for a moment she seemed a little flustered. "Yes. Of course. Silly me. It's just, that's what I usually say to new families, and there are a lot of you, and —"

"Old Mrs. Spleen used to say the Weasleys kept her employed," Auntie Muriel cackled. "Are you going to let us in, girl, or are you just going to stand there and cluck like a hen?"

The midwife opened her mouth to answer, but then apparently thought better of it, and just stepped aside to let them in through the door.

Mum lay in the large double bed, propped up with many pillows and with a tiny bundle in her arms, wrapped up in a pink blanket. She looked tired, but gave them all a warm smile as they entered. "Come in. Come meet your sister."

They all approached the bed, and for some reason it felt different than usual. Even the twins, who would normally rush up to Mum and begin climbing all over her, were walking slowly and staring at the pink bundle with wide eyes.

Underneath a mop of ginger hair, a tiny face squinted back at them all.

And then, Auntie Muriel broke the silence. "That is quite possibly the ugliest baby I've ever seen," she said. "She's even uglier than you were, Charles."

Charlie scowled — even though secretly he agreed with her. Of course, he had seen enough newborns to know that no baby looks their best straight from the womb, but he couldn't remember Percy, Fred or George being quite that wrinkly or miscoloured. In his opinion this one looked like a mix of a purple, misshapen potato and a tiny, ancient garden gnome who was making the ugliest grimace it could.

But nothing could tear Dad down from the pink cloud he was currently floating on. "Ugly babies make pretty ladies, Muriel!" he said with a chuckle.

"This one ought to be quite the beauty, then."

"Auntie Muriel, be nice," said Mum wearily. "She's not even fifteen minutes old, she does not need that kind of bile. It's all right, dearie," she cooed. "You're the prettiest little girl in the entire world."

"Teaching her how to lie already, I see," Muriel cackled.

The baby twitched and made a soft noise deep in her throat, a noise that curiously enough sounded almost exactly like the squeaky door to Charlie's room.

"You've offended her," Bill chuckled. "Hello, sis. Glad to finally meet you. You already know Mum and Dad, and this is Auntie Muriel — don't worry, you get used to her."

"You're being ridiculous, William," Muriel snorted, though Dad was clearly holding in another chuckle.

"I'm being polite," said Bill, turning back to the baby. "I'm Bill, this is Charlie, that's Percy, and the two who are staring at you like they've never seen a baby before are Fred and George. And what's your name?"

The baby didn't answer, of course, unless you counted scrunching up her little face and making another squeaky-door-noise as an answer. But really, everybody knew the question hadn't really been directed at her — and now they all looked at Mum expectantly. The time for revealing the baby's name had come.

"Her name," said Mum, "is Ginevra. Your father and I picked it out long ago. If we ever had a little girl, we decided, her name would be Ginevra Molly Weasley."

"Gin— huh?" said George, his tongue tripping over the word. "Gin?"

Mum smiled. "Gin- _ev_ -ra, dear," she said, sounding it out.

"Ginnybah," said George, trying to imitate the sounds.

 _"Ginny!"_ said Fred.

Percy cocked his head, squinting almost as badly as the baby did. (They really should have his eyes checked one of these days; seemed like he'd inherited Dad's poor eyesight.) "She doesn't look like a Ginny," he finally said.

"It's just because you're not used to it, dear," said Mum. "She'll look like a Ginny soon enough."

"Right now," said Charlie, "she looks more like a _Muriel."_ He'd meant it as an insult, a bit of a revenge against Auntie Muriel for going on about how ugly the baby was (and how ugly Charlie had been), because he was fairly certain that even Auntie Muriel wouldn't cause a row with a newborn baby present. '

He hadn't counted on Muriel suddenly looking pleased. "Why, Charles," she said, sounding almost pleasant. "That is a _marvellous_ idea. Molly, I think you should call her Muriel. It sounds _much_ better than Ginevra."

"Muriel Molly Weasley?" For the first time, Dad stopped smiling and looked horrified.

"No girls are named Muriel anymore!" said Auntie Muriel. "And it's _much_ too fine a name for us to let it go out of use."

Bill glowered at Charlie. _"Nice going,"_ he hissed.

"Auntie Muriel," said Mum firmly. "I'm sorry, but we picked out her name ages ago. She's going to be Ginevra Molly, and that is final."

Anyone else would have given up at the firm tone, but if there was one person in the entire world who could resist Mum's 'that is final,' it was Auntie Muriel. "I would have thought," she said icily, "that you would be _proud_ to name your daughter after me. Who was there for your birth, and who's been watching your increasing flock of kids so that you and that _husband_ of yours wouldn't be disturbed by their noise every time a new one came along. And no matter that I never got a _word_ of thanks —"

"Dad thanked you just _five minutes ago!"_ said Charlie, taken aback at this blatant loss of memory.

Muriel ignored him. "But I see how it is! No appreciation!"

The midwife materialised from nowhere. No longer smiling and talking in a babyish voice; now she looked angry. "If you can't be in here without raising a fuss," she said in a low voice, "then you can leave. _Now."_ She glared at Muriel.

"I'm _family_ , you silly bint!" Muriel shot back. _"You_ leave! You've done your job!"

The baby twitched in Mum's arm and began fussing, her voice raising from a squeak to a louder cry. Either she was reacting to the mood in the room, or she _really_ did not want to be named Muriel Molly Weasley.

"You're making her cry!" said Percy, looking like he was about to cry as well. "Stop it!"

"Stop it!" Fred and George chorused, just as Don't-Call-Me-Muriel-Molly opened her mouth and let out a thin, high-pitched wail.

And then, Erec jumped from his shoulder and landed right next to the baby.

Startled, Mum pulled the bundle of pink closer to her. "Charlie," she snapped. "Get your pet away from —" she stopped and stared at the baby in amazement.

The moment the Puffskein had come close, the little one had stopped wailing. She relaxed, for the first time opening her eyes and looking at the ball of fluff with cloudy, unfocused eyes. And all of a sudden, Erec levitated off the blanket, slowly rising up to float in front of her face.

The room grew completely silent as everyone watched in astonishment. Then, the soft, happy humming of the Puffskein began; he was purring at the baby just like he always did at Charlie. And she was completely calm; it seemed like she had forgotten that she was ever upset about anything.

"Well, I'll be," said the midwife, the first one to regain her voice. "Displaying magic before she's even an hour old."

"Is that... normal?" said Bill, sounding uncharacteristically worried.

"It's very rare, but it's not unheard of," said the midwife soothingly. "Her vision isn't very developed yet. She wanted to see the Puffskein more clearly, so she got it closer to her face. You'd better take it from her, just in case."

Charlie reached out and gently grabbed Erec, to return him to his place on his shoulder.

Auntie Muriel smiled triumphantly. "Early display of magic," she said in a self-satisfied tone. "Well, now you _must_ name her Muriel. Clearly she takes after me."

"I'd say she takes after Charlie," said Bill. He looked at Charlie with an expression somewhere between shock, envy and amazement. "Look at her — she's already crazy about animals, even if she doesn't even know what animals _are_ yet."

Charlie blinked. All of a sudden, it was as if he saw his new sister for the first time again. This wasn't going to be a dollies-and-tea-parties girl at all. She was going to be an outdoors type, like him, coming home with mud in her hair and all sorts of animals following her. _And she really isn't all_ _ **that**_ _ugly,_ he realised to his surprise. _Her nose is kind of cute._

"Mum," he said. "If she had been a boy, what would you have named her?"

Mum looked at him, confused that he would ask. "Ronald," she said. "It's an old family name, but it hasn't been used for some time."

"Ronald," Charlie repeated slowly. _Ron,_ he thought, trying to turn it into a girl name. _Ronalda. Ronelle._ "Ve- _ron_ -ica."

"Veronica Weasley!" said the midwife, happy that the conflict seemed to have resolved itself. "That's a pretty name."

"Veronica _Muriel_ Weasley," said Auntie Muriel with an air of finality. "It's the least you could do. Unless, of course, if you need a godmother for her..."

Mum and Dad exchanged glances. Even Charlie could see them weighing the options. 'Muriel' as a middle name, or Muriel as a godmother.

"Maybe we _should_ try 'Veronica Muriel' as her name," said Dad. "For a few days, to see if it fits her."

"Maybe we should," Mum agreed. "It's not official until the christening, after all."

Charlie looked at his baby sister. She was still calm, making the small twitchy motions and grimaces that newborn babies did. He felt a little guilty about his part in saddling her with 'Muriel' as a middle name, but he comforted himself with the thought that at least it wasn't her _first_ name. Nobody ever _really_ used their middle names anyway, right?

And maybe Mum and Dad could name their _next_ daughter, if there ever was one, 'Ginevra Molly.'

"Well," he said. "Since you're a leapling and all, it's going to be four years before we can say this again... so we'd better say it now."

"Say what?" said Percy, turning to look at him.

"What else?" said Charlie. _"Happy birthday, Veronica Weasley."_

* * *

 **THE BEGINNING...**

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** Yes — happy birthday, Veronica Weasley! You may not be the prettiest, the cleverest, the most powerful or the wisest Harry Potter OC out there, but we like you anyway!

(The next story in the series is, of course, _Weasley Girl,_ which picks up eleven years later when young Veronica is off to Hogwarts for the first time, makes friends with a certain Boy Who Lived and gets into all kinds of trouble... not _all_ of which is her own fault.)

Fans know that in canon, Ron Weasley was born on March 1st 1980. When I first started writing Weasley Girl, I had this very clear idea that Veronica "Ronnie" Weasley was a day older than her male counterpart and was born on the last day of February instead of the first day of March. (If you've read _Weasley Girl: Secrets of the Past,_ you might remember Ronnie at one point stating that she'll turn thirteen in February.) I actually didn't remember at the time that 1980 was a leap year; it wasn't until later that I discovered that "the last day of February" in 1980 was in fact the twenty-ninth and I'd quite inadvertently made Ronnie a leapling!

I did consider, for a moment, to move her birth back a day and have her born on February 28th so that she could have proper yearly birthdays. But in the end, having her as a leapling made sense thematically for the story and the universe, the same way it makes thematic sense for Fred and George to be born on April Fools Day. After all, Ronnie is the only character in the _Weasley Girl_ universe who was born differently than in canon. She is an _exception_ — and so of course having her birthday be a day that's also an exception just fit.

(And I can assure you that despite Charlie's concern, and despite some teasing from Fred and George, she _does_ get a family birthday celebration every year; on non-leap years they have it on February 28th.)

As for the instant display of magic, according to Pottermore it does happen sometimes. In fact, it happened with Neville, who like Auntie Muriel here wrapped his blanket more snugly around himself only moments after he'd been born — but the midwife (whom I'm sort of imagining to be the same midwife as the one in this story) missed it when it happened and afterwards just assumed that his father had come in and adjusted the blankets. Hence, Neville's family ended up worrying he was a Squib until he was eight.

Final thought: It's not a big part of this story, but I liked the idea of Fred and George idolising Percy when they were very small, a stark contrast to how they ended up later on.


End file.
